He was the man in black at Busch Stadium.
Mike Shannon walked into the press box at the old Busch Stadium during the middle innings for a hot cup of coffee. It didn't matter if it was 98 degrees outside or 115 on the field during a July game.
Black coffee to go with black pants, a black shirt, and shiny black hair. It's OK, Mike Shannon's smile cooled off the surroundings and balanced out the dark colors that his presence brought into the room. Whenever I had a chance to come down from the manual scoreboard atop the upper terrace level, I would see Shannon in the box taking a breather. A few words with him was all I wanted. He ended up giving me a conversation. That's what kind of guy he was. The kind of guy I'm sure he still is.
One of the signature voices in Cardinal history turned 79 years young Sunday. On a day where the name "Mike" is being thrown around like Bloody Mary's at Sunday brunch, the one name that isn't getting enough attention is Mr. Shannon. A guy who started out with the Cardinals in the minor leagues back in the late 1950's has stuck around for decades.
Shannon hit a memorable home run against the New York Yankees' Whitey Ford in the 1964 World Series. He would collect 710 hits, 68 home runs, a .255 batting average and play in three World Series with the Cardinals in nine seasons before a kidney condition brought a halt to his career. A good run that had been upstaged by a broadcast career that started shortly after his playing days.
When I was growing up in South City, my dad tuned the radio to Shannon and Jack Buck as we drove down Kingshighway towards Gravois. We used to take the long way back to our house off Tholozan Avenue just so we could hear the two voices talk to us about baseball. With Shannon and Buck describing the action, visuals weren't necessary. A blind baseball fan's dream setup. Shannon would let out a huge chuckle, and Buck would punctuate it with play-by-play. Stories flooded in and memories were carved.
Before long, everybody could do a Shannon. We'd yell "get up" when a fly ball had some height. We would scream "deuces wild" when the Cardinals had a situation on the basepaths. "The pitcher comes set, checks the runners, and delivers to the plate....swing and a miss!" That was Shannon over the years. When Buck passed away, the team moved a bevy of personalities into the booth before finding John Rooney. The two men have found a chemistry and rhythm that reminds me a little of the Buck days.
Think about it. How many Cardinals fans have listened to Shannon for their entire life? How many people in St. Louis or around the surrounding cities sync up Cardinals baseball with Shannon's voice? I bet the number reaches the hundreds of thousands or more. When you get into the car after a long day at work or a hot float trip, it was Shannon who met you with a smile, laugh and the score.
Sure, he doesn't say every name right, but who does? Where else can you find "Simo-Man" or "Izzy-Man" during a game? Shannon is the man, warts and all. I don't want anyone else calling game and when the day comes where Shannon isn't in the booth at Busch Stadium (he only does home games these days), it will be an odd sound in the car.
Shannon is now 79. He's spent more than half of that time with the Cardinals. A staple in St. Louis. Someone people expect to hear.
As rain delayed the game on Saturday night, KMOX played old radio clips from the 2011 World Series with the Texas Rangers. Shannon's voice flooded my car. Instead of taking Hampton Avenue to Schnucks, I decided to take the long way, driving around Francis Park. I wanted more Shannon.
After 46 years at the microphone, Cardinals fans still want more Mike Shannon. After the passing of Red Schoendienst, Shannon is the longest tenured person in this organization at Busch these days. The man in black. The true voice of the St. Louis Cardinals.
